


Love Languages

by leggyman



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Love Languages, Platonic Relationships, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, Wilbur Soot-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:09:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29459547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leggyman/pseuds/leggyman
Summary: Wilbur takes this Valentine’s Day as an opportunity to make sure his friends know they are loved in a way that is special to each of them-----Gift for @nic_takes_Ls !! Happy Valentine's Day :)
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Wilbur Soot, Eret & Wilbur Soot, No Romantic Relationship(s), Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 12
Kudos: 218
Collections: TWB Valentine's Event [2021]





	Love Languages

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nic_takes_Ls (nic_L)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nic_L/gifts).



Wilbur was, admittedly, quite the sap. He was a highly emotional and sentimental person, as clearly evidenced by his lunch receipts and sticky notes and old birthday cards he kept safe in random drawers throughout his home. Did this give him a slight hoarding problem? Yes, but it wasn’t bad enough to require an ‘intervention’ yet.

Anyway, this sentimentality made him a  _ fantastic _ gift giver. He’d plan gifts months ahead, sometimes buying early or at least compiling mental lists of things that were mentioned to be ‘out of budget’ or ‘just not right now’. He reckoned he’d die a bit inside if he gave a bad gift, and therefore always put maximum effort into doing so.

That’s why, this Valentine’s, he researched love languages and decided that that was a good route for gift-giving - something tailored specifically for the other. He wanted to show his friends how truly appreciated and loved they were, and found out their love languages one-by-one in the most subtle ways he could think of. Some were easily surmised, while others were a bit surprising (who knew  _ the  _ Technoblade’s language was physical touch? After learning each, he devised a list of plans.

Phil’s love language was ‘quality time’, which was both not at all a surprise and confirmed after Wilbur simply asked during a conversation they’d been having.

Unfortunately, it was next to impossible for their schedules to align enough to hang out in person anytime soon, so Wilbur’s plan revolved around the next best thing - video chat.

He sprung the plan into action during an off-stream Dream SMP session. Phil was doing the mindless process of strip mining off in a random plains biome some 1,000 blocks away, and Wilbur was EXP grinding. It was just the two of them and a music bot, listening to a solid combination of  _ Los Campesinos _ and  _ The Oh Hellos _ and “Kitchen Without Gun” on loop.

“Hey Phil?” Wilbur quietly asked, interrupting the clicks of keys and the twelfth round of “Kitchen Without Gun”. 

Phil hummed in response.

“Would you like to make dinner over call together? It’s been a while, mate.”

Phil immediately agreed. Kristin was out of town anyway, and it truly  _ had  _ been a while. Having a ‘Discord-Dinner-Date’ always satiated Phil’s fatherly instinct to make sure Wilbur is eating food that was not only edible (see: not sand) but also healthy and enough.

They played Minecraft for a while longer before booting the music bot and swapping to their phones. Phil made a stew from random meats and vegetables he had leftover, whereas Wilbur tried his hand at spaghetti. He was a horrendous cook, only made worse by his funky sense of taste (or lack of), so he mostly followed Phil’s instructions for seasonings and how long it all should be cooked.

After both meals were done - and Wilbur was congratulated for not setting the house on fire - they both propped up their phones on whatever was in front of them and ate. They talked about Wilbur’s music and Phil chasing down what he thought was a purse thief and the cave update and whatever else came to mind.

They chatted, just the two of them, well into the evening and well after both of their plates had been emptied.

The call was finished with an exchange of ‘goodbyes’, and finally Wilbur saying “I love you, Phil”.

Dream’s love language was ‘words of affirmation’. Wilbur knew this about him, already having been confirmed a long while ago back during the late nights scripting the first arc of the SMP. A lot of personal information had been shared over that period, and Dream’s love of verbal validation was one of them.

His plan was enacted in a spur of the moment situation, making it not much of a plan at all. It was common for people to hang out in a call by themselves, leaving it in the other member’s ballparks as to whether to join or not. Wilbur had been practicing his guitar, attempting to learn the tabs for the newest  _ Mother Mother _ song to strike his fancy, alone in a VC when Dream joined.

Wilbur could immediately tell the other was tense, noting the strain in his voice that wasn’t usually present. After a bit of prompting, Dream launched into a rant about how his editing of the new Manhunt video was turning out horribly.

“Something’s wrong with it, man. I’ve been at it for six hours and I  _ can’t figure it out _ .”

Wilbur offered to ‘test-watch’ the video and give his input. Dream screen-shared his computer and they watched together. Wilbur took every opportunity to compliment a certain part or scene that was spliced together in the perfect manner, making sure to also comment on the “MLG Lava” skills and other gimmicky tricks Dream did during it. 

“Genuinely, I think you’re overthinking. I think this is one of your best Manhunts yet, Dream. You doubt yourself too much, mate,” Wilbur said honestly when Dream asked what he thought at the end.

Although the Floridian never acknowledged it, Wilbur could hear the smile return to his voice and the tenseness disappear. The two spent longer online together, both doing their own thing.

Before Dream left, Wilbur made sure to tell the other, “I’m proud of you, Dream.”

Tommy, for as adamant as he was about ‘not being clingy’, was a shoo-in for the ‘physical touch’ language. Wilbur had sent him a Love Language Buzzfeed quiz randomly one day, as they tended to send to one another (Wilbur never quite understood why Tommy was so interested in what kind of candle he was, but he opted not to ask).

This love language proved to be one of the more difficult to figure out a gift for. As much as he’d love to, Wilbur couldn’t just spring up and visit a sixteen-year-old in person who lived multiple hours away without extensive planning, not to mention while the other was in the middle of college.

So, Wilbur did what he did best when he had no idea what to do: Google. He eventually found a blog site for long-distance relationships (not quite the same, but Wilbur could modify it to fit what he needed) where physical touch is a love language at play. Some ideas were given, and he clung to a few of them.

He went to the post office first, buying a sizable shipping box to put together the care package with. His next stop was the craft store, where he bought two large pieces of fleece, a knitting loom, and thick red blanket yarn. His last destination wasn’t a shop, but rather his own closet.

After three Netflix documentaries and a now messy living room, Wilbur had what he needed. He had a massive tie blanket, one side red and the other dog-patterned, folded at the bottom of the box. The middle layer was placed a hand-knitted beanie (although a bit poorly made. Wilbur learned how to loom-knit that day, after all). The top layer was a neatly folded hoodie that was clearly well-loved and a bit faded from a lot of rounds through the washing machine. It was one of Wilbur’s old sweatshirts that Tommy had often worn when he’d visited last.

The final touch before the box was sealed was an origami crane with the words “Love you, brother” written on a wing.

Eret was discovered to be an ‘acts of service’ individual, which did throw Wilbur for a bit of a loop (he was banking on ‘words of affirmation’ if he was honest). Nonetheless, Wilbur had established a plan rather quickly.

Eret was well known to be a busy university student, sacrificing sleep and general self-care more often than anyone liked. They all knew of their struggle with finding a balance, and Wilbur decided that his services might be appreciated.

“This is inhumane,” Eret complained to Wilbur one night over Discord, yawning halfway through their own sentence. Biochemistry was, for some reason, a required course for the class of major Eret was taking, and it was thoroughly kicking their ass. They grasped none of the concepts being thrown at them, science never a strong suit, and figured that if any class made them drop out entirely, it’d be this.

Wilbur, on the other hand, was pretty knowledgeable in the subject. Although it was hard to see just by looking at him, the interest to learn was something he could never shake and would find himself doing his own research on random concepts and topics whenever he felt.

“I can help, I think.”

Eret was a bit skeptical at first, but quickly realized that Wilbur knew what he was talking about. The man was able to explain in a much easier manner than the professor at the front of the lecture hall ever managed to do, and by the end, Eret knew enough to at least  _ do  _ the assignment. They’d even manage to finish at an early enough time for a full night of sleep.

“Of course, Eret”, Wilbur said after Eret thanked him repeatedly, “I’m happy to help.”

Wilbur awoke on Valentine’s Day to the usual Brighton traffic and the sun poking through his curtains. The doorbell ringing was probably the actual culprit when Wilbur registered the noise, though.

He unfolded himself from the bed, slipping on a random hoodie and sweatpants, and made his way to the front door. He wasn’t supposed to be receiving any packages soon, unless they came a month early. What he certainly wasn’t expecting was a small mountain of parcels, ranging in sizes, to be stacked on his doorstep. He brought them all in and opened them up.

They were filled with gifts from his friends - a personalized guitar pick from Phil, a Minecraft torch water bottle from Dream, a stuffed orca from Tommy, a Los Angeles crewneck sweatshirt from Eret, and a few more from his other friends.

Wilbur’s love language was ‘receiving gifts’, and he could firmly say that he felt loved.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it nic! You're pog


End file.
